


Ashes to Ashes

by KaylaToriWolf



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Mild Angst, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, cause I'm always a slut for comforting drarry okay, draco and harry are roommates, draco has a panic attack and harry has to comfort him, technically takes place in eighth year
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-12
Updated: 2017-09-12
Packaged: 2018-12-26 18:16:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12064416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaylaToriWolf/pseuds/KaylaToriWolf
Summary: Draco shivers as he finds himself in a room he'd really rather never have to see again. He starts walking aimlessly through the piles and piles of things left behind by past students. He doesn't realize where his feet have brought him until he sees it, that damned object that plagued his life for so long. Despite his head screaming that he should turn around and walk away, he approaches the cabinet feeling strangely drawn to it.





	Ashes to Ashes

**Author's Note:**

> This piece is technically part of another fic I'm writing but could easily just be read as a oneshot so I figured I'd go ahead and post it. (Mostly I'm just not sure if I'll ever get around to posting the actual fic its a part of and I'm actually proud of this so I want at least this to be posted somewhere) Also apologies for the shit summary I honestly didn't know what to write for it.

Draco shivers as he finds himself in a room he'd really rather never have to see again. He starts walking aimlessly through the piles and piles of things left behind by past students. He doesn't realize where his feet have brought him until he sees it, that damned object that plagued his life for so long. Despite his head screaming that he should turn around and walk away, he approaches the cabinet feeling strangely drawn to it. 

Ghosting his hand along the door and feeling the strange but familiar pattern, his hand finds its way to the handle, twisting it and tugging gently. The door swings open to reveal what looked empty at first glance but as he bends down to get a closer look he sees something inside. 

At first, he wonders if it's an unfortunate mouse that has found its way in but never made it out again. Hesitantly, he bends down to pick up the unknown lump. 

He turns it over in his hand and a choked sob escapes his mouth. 

It's a bird. 

Grief floods through his body as he looks at the poor innocent creature now laying lifeless in his hand. He goes to run the back of his finger along the soft feathers but the moment he touches it, it begins to decay and turns to dust. 

No, not dust, ashes. 

He watches horrified as the ash falls through the gaps in his fingers onto the floor leaving nothing but a grotesque skeleton in the palm of his hand. He tries to let go of it, to scream, to get as far away from the cabinet as possible, but his body refuses to move. As he continues to watch the skeleton it begins to crackle and move, sitting up off his hand and stretching its wings. Or at least what's left of them. He watches transfixed as it tilts its head, then with a piercing cry the skeleton bursts into flames, soon engulfing the area around him. 

Body finally able to move, Draco scrambles away just before the fire ignites the place he had been standing in only seconds before. He turns and runs as fast as his legs will carry him, adrenaline pumping through his veins. Refusing to look behind him, he stumbles aimlessly until he finally sees a door off in the distance. With his destination in sight, he pushes his body harder, faster, further.

Barreling towards the door he makes it through just as the fire behind him lunges with a hiss. Slamming the door shut he doubles over, air seeming to refuse to enter his lungs as he attempts to regain his breath.

But then he realizes he recognizes these floor tiles. Tiles that had once been stained red with his own blood. His stomach lurches as he finds himself in a very familiar bathroom.

He turns around to check for the door he came through only to find it has disappeared, replaced by a room he knows all too well. It's then that he notices Harry standing across from him, looking at him with complete and utter disgust. 

He had almost forgotten the pain of that spell which haunts his dreams more than anything else these days. He can feel each cut as vivid as if it was actually happening; blood pooling out and around him as he struggles to breath, the taste of copper stinging his mouth. 

Harry approaches him like a predator would freshly caught prey, eyes flashing dangerously. "How could you ever think I'd want you? You're just a weak, pathetic, lonely death eater who should be rotting away in Azkaban like your father." Harry leans in close enough to whisper in his ear. "You mean nothing to me." He practically purrs, straightening up and taking a few steps back now pointing his wand back in Draco's direction. "Nothing."

"You're worthless." He whispers, now holding his wand to the side and beginning to conjure a fiendfyre in the shape of a snake. "I should've left you in that fire," He mutters darkly before thrusting his wand forward, engulfing the room in scorching flames. 

Draco snaps awake, sweat soaking through his clothes and to the bedcovers. He shoves the covers off then sits up, curling into a tight ball. He shivers violently at the sudden cold now assaulting his trembling body. A strangled "shit," is all he manages to say before the panic overcomes his mind and his body seizes up completely. 

He begins saying "It wasn't real, just breathe," over and over in his head like a mantra as he tries to regain control of his erratic breathing. His head feels fuzzy and a ringing in his ears drowns out all other sound. "It wasn't real dammit," he repeats in barely more than a whisper; each breath he drags in feeling like it's being forced back out before it reaches his lungs. 

Draco becomes vaguely aware of a voice that seems to be coming from somewhere in front of him, but can't get his body to move to look. The voice says something again and Draco focuses all of his attention onto that sound, letting it ground him. The ringing begins to dissipate as the voice repeats soothing words, easing him out of his panicked state. Draco manages to lift his head and forces his eyes to open. Instinctively, his body recoils as he takes in the worried green eyes and the lit wand pointed at him. 

So much fire. 

So much heat. 

Draco cowers even further. 

Following Draco's terrified gaze, Harry seems to realize his mistake and places his wand on the bed, holding his empty hands up in a peaceful gesture. His lips move and Draco thinks he's trying to ask something but he can't make it out through the muddled ringing. Harry seems to ask something else, though this time he adds hand motions; first indicating his own slow breaths and then gesturing towards Draco. Harry continues to take long exaggerated breaths and, finally understanding, Draco tries to match them with his own. 

In, out. 

"You're safe now, it's okay."

In, out.

"You're not in danger anymore."

In, out. 

"This will pass."

In, out. 

"Good, just breathe."

In, out. 

His hearing becomes less muddled and his breathing begins to even out. This time he can clearly hear Harry ask a careful "Is it okay if I touch you?" To which Draco nods his head as best he can. Harry nods back then gently pries his hands out of their vice grip on his drawn-up legs. He gives them a gentle squeeze, running soothing circles on them with his thumbs. 

"It's okay, you're okay, no one is going to hurt you." He says. "You're safe."

Draco stares at their hands, letting the motion and physical contact bring him back to the present. A few minutes pass in near silence as Draco continues to even out his breathing. With another light squeeze Harry says "You're doing really well, just keep breathing. Is there anything you need?" 

An image flashes in his head and Draco's heart aches as he recalls a time, long ago, when his mother would hold him whenever he was scared and rock him gently until his tears dissipated and he was able to fall asleep. Sometimes she even sang soft lullabies in French, or in Latin if it was really bad. 

He's never realized just how much he misses that closeness, that physical touch which he has been starved of for so many years. He's broken out of his melancholy by another light squeeze and patient eyes watching him closely for any signs of fear or discomfort. Draco squeezes back in what he hopes is a reassuring manner. 

"Hold me," Draco whispers almost desperately. "Please."

Harry looks surprised for a moment before nodding. "Okay," he says, scooting forward on the bed and drawing Draco towards him by the hands. "Like this?"

"Yes," Draco replies, grasping onto the front of his t-shirt and settling against his front, knees on either side of his hips. He leans his head down on Harry's shoulder who moves his arms to wrap them around his back, pulling him even closer. 

Draco doesn't know when the first tears start falling which soon turn into quiet sobs that wrack his whole body. Harry simply holds him even tighter, rubbing soothing circles on his back and whispering "It's okay, just let it all out." 

They stay like that for what feels like hours, Harry letting Draco cry into his shoulder until all that's left are small sniffles and hiccoughs. He's not sure when his arms moved down and around Harry's ribs to clutch at his back, or when one of Harry's hands started running through his hair so gently he can barely feel it. All he knows is that he never wants this to end. This quiet moment of comfort and reassurance and closeness. 

A precious moment when he doesn't feel quite so alone. 

For the first time in years Draco genuinely feels safe, in the arms of someone who used to be his enemy, and believes him when Harry says there's nothing to worry about and that he's going to be okay. 

"Do you want to try going back to sleep?" Harry asks quietly, as if he's just as afraid of breaking this fragile spell of peace and quiet as Draco is. 

"No," Draco mumbles, burying his face further into his shoulder. 

"Do you want to talk about it?" Harry asks, holding him closer in response. 

"Not particularly," Draco says, angling his face towards his neck. He can see Harry's Adam's apple bob as he swallows. 

"Okay," Harry says with a small laugh. It's a nice sound, Draco thinks. "It's okay to be scared you know. I still have nightmares almost every night." 

"I wondered," Draco says, thinking back on many restless nights sat awake watching Harry sleep fitfully; wanting nothing more than to crawl into his bed with him and smooth those pained creases off his face. 

Harry's hands still as he seems to think something over. "Maybe we should talk about them, I mean probably not tonight but eventually. It might help both of us you know?" Harry says with as much of a shrug as he can muster with Draco wrapped around him.

"Perhaps," Draco says. 

"Do you want me to shut up now?" Harry asks with another laugh that reverberates through Draco's body. 

"Yes," Draco says. "Well, actually no, not really." He adds after some consideration. 

"Okay," Harry says. "Is there anything you do want?"

"You can keep running your hand through my hair." Draco says. "That felt...nice."

"Oh – er – okay," Harry stammers, face flushing slightly unbeknownst to Draco. Bringing his hand back up he resume his gentle strokes.

A silence falls over them but not an uncomfortable one. Draco let's himself be lulled by the gentle movements of Harry's hands, joined by his slow breaths and steady heartbeat. Draco doesn't think he's ever felt so at ease and he tries to soak up as much of it as he can while it lasts. 

"You should at least drink some water, you could get dehydrated." Harry says after awhile. 

"Aww, look at Potty caring about my health." Draco says with a snort. "When did you get so smart?"

"Actually learned that one from Hermione," Harry murmurs. "I guess a whole summer living at the Burrow with people suddenly bursting into tears left and right does that."

Sensing Harry's sudden change in mood, Draco attempts to lighten it by teasing "I'm shocked! Golden-Boy finally knows something and he learned it from Granger!"

"Oh shove off," Harry says with a half-hearted push on his shoulder. 

"I'd actually rather not, I'm quite comfortable where I am thank you very much." He replies matter-of-factly. 

"Honestly, with all the petting and cuddling you'd think you were a cat not a ferret." Harry says with a smirk, earning him a slim finger dug between two ribs quite painfully. "Alright! Alright! I won't call you a ferret."

"Prat."

"Git."

"Arse."

"Okay but seriously you should drink some water." Harry says, conjuring a full glass and holding it out towards the pouting boy in his arms. 

"If it'll get you to shut up about it," Draco says with an eye roll. He takes the glass and downs the whole thing before handing it back, nestling back into his spot against Harry's chest. "Tastes like piss."

"I always thought conjured water tasted more like rotten eggs but sure that works too." Harry says with a snort. "And anyway, I thought you didn't want me to shut up."

"Well I've changed my mind." Draco says, lifting his head up to glare rather pitifully then dropping it back down onto Harry's shoulder. 

"Sure you have." Harry says with a soft chuckle, patting his head before resuming his gentle strokes. 

"I don't even want to think about how oily my hair is going to be after this." Draco grumbles. 

"I could always stop, wouldn't want you looking like Snape now would we." Harry says with another laugh, slowly bringing his hand away. 

"Don't you fucking dare Potter." Draco says, grabbing his hand and placing it back on his head with a pat. "Besides, no amount of your gross hand oil could make my hair look that bad."

"Gods, now I'm just imaging running a hand through his hair and it coming away uncomfortably moist." Harry says with a shudder. 

"Merlin, you didn't have to make me think about it too!" Draco says sounding scandalized. 

"Well now we can suffer together, you're welcome." Harry says, patting Draco's head. 

"I hate you."

"No you don't."

"Shut up." Draco's face flushes as he thinks about the fact that no, he really doesn't hate him. Quite the contrary actually. Not that he'd ever admit it to anyone out loud of course. 

They find themselves in another comfortable silence and Draco is suddenly hit by just how exhausted he is. Without the conversation to distract him he feels the last bits of energy drain out of him, a long yawn escaping his mouth. 

"You really should sleep if you're tired." Harry says, poking him lightly in the side. Draco grumbles irritably but figures he's right, reluctantly releasing his hold on Harry and moving to lay down. 

He feels cold. 

Harry moves to leave but is stopped by Draco who says a quiet "Harry?" As soon as it comes out of his mouth he hopes he didn't hear him, not even sure why he said it. 

"Yes?" Harry asks, sitting back down on the edge of the bed. "Need anything else?"

Draco can think of plenty of things that he wants, not the least of which is for Harry to stay with him the whole night, but figures asking for that would be pushing it. Instead, he just shakes his head, rolling over to get more comfortable. "Never mind."

Harry reaches a hand out to run it through his hair, pushing the platinum blond locks back and out of his face. "If you're sure." Harry says with an odd little smile that looks much too endearing for Draco's liking. 

And most definitely does not make him feel warm and fuzzy inside. Because Malfoy's absolutely do not feel warm and fuzzy inside. Especially not because of something as simple as a smile. 

Harry continues to run a hand through his hair and Draco feels himself slowly falling asleep. When his breathing evens out Harry's hand continues for a while, wanting to make sure he's actually asleep before returning to his own bed. 

Just as he begins to slip into a deep sleep, Draco hazily hears Harry mumble a barely audible "Gods, you're going to ruin me." Harry let's out a laugh that sounds more like a resigned sigh. Draco's heart hammers in his chest and at first he thinks that's it. But then Harry leans over, planting a light kiss on his forehead. He slowly gets up and heads towards his bed, completely missing the small twitch of a smile on Draco's face as he lays down to fall asleep. 

The next morning Harry wakes up to find the room empty. He worries for a moment until he sees a small note on his bedside table. It's not signed, containing only two words in slanting elegant script. 

Thank you.

Harry can't help the beaming smile that spreads across his face. He stares at it a little longer then tucks the note safely away in his pocket feeling lighter than air.


End file.
